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There was something up with Colt, and it wasn’t the usual trouble that he was getting into. Call it a detective’s hunch but Holland knew he was hiding something. He wasn’t sure what or why, but it was definitely something.
The kid wasn’t as good at masking his feelings as he thought he was. Colt had been shifty lately, staying late at school with increasingly random excuses.
At first Holland thought he was maybe failing a class and was staying late to try and catch up, not wanting Holland to find out. So Holland called the school–yes, he’s well aware that he’s overbearing but Colt wouldn’t talk to him–and his grades were just fine, they were pretty good actually.
Then he thought that maybe Colt started playing a sport and didn’t want anyone to know, which would have been weird but whatever, he was grasping at straws here, but there was also no record of him on any teams. Colt also would have needed him or Jackson to get whatever he would need to be on one of the school teams so a sport definitely wasn’t it.
Holland narrowed it down to a secret girlfriend or boyfriend–boyfriend being more likely since Colt was trying so hard to hide it from everyone. He didn’t think that Colt had gotten into anything bad, there was a certain kind of lightness to him since he started sneaking around.
Why he felt the need to hide a partner, Holland wasn’t sure. Maybe fourteen was a little young to be dating but as long as Holland could meet the kid, and threaten them just a little bit, then he really didn’t mind. If Colt had a girlfriend then cool, who cares. If he had a boyfriend–well it wasn’t like Holland was in any position to judge.
Holland was a damn good detective though, he wasn’t going to get outsmarted by a fourteen year old.
—
Colt had done something potentially stupid. Not his usual brand of stupid, he wasn’t attempting to do increasingly crazy stunts on the dirtbike that he knows uncle Holland regrets buying him or just being a general nuisance to everyone he knows.
He auditioned to be the lead in the school’s play, and he got the role.
Now that might not sound that insane, it was tame compared to the shit he usually did, but he hadn’t told a soul. Not Holland, not Court, not even Ryland. Absolutely no one.
At first he didn’t say anything in case he didn’t get the role. No point in worrying about something without knowing it was for sure going to happen.
Then he got the role and thought that he should probably tell Holland. Colt had every intention of telling him, of telling someone, what he was doing but there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him to keep it a secret, that if no one knew about it then no one could stop him.
The voice sounded a lot like his father.
When Colt was eight the school he had been going to put on a play and any kid who wanted to be part of it could audition. To his little eight year old self the chance to be a tree or some other stupid little role sounded like the most fun thing ever.
There was a permission slip though. If you wanted to participate then you had to get permission from a parent. Colt didn’t think about any implications that being in a play could have so he happily gave the permission slip to his dad and asked him to sign it.
That was the first time Colt had been hit by his father.
He doesn’t even remember what the play was or what part he wanted in it but he still remembers John fucking Gentry, supreme asshole and world’s worst father, hurling insults at him.
Boys don’t do stupid queer shit like dress up and dance around a stage. You’re supposed to be a real man Colton, fucking act like it.
Colt hadn’t tried to get into theater since then. Even in middle school when he was living in real life Hollywood, far away from that piece of shit, with two men who gave a shit about him and his happiness, he couldn’t bring himself to ask again.
Some small part of him was always going to be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to do something that Holland or Healy really don’t fucking like, and that’ll be it.
Most of the time he knew something like that wasn’t going to happen, Court and Holly broke into a fucking murderer’s house and the worst they got from Holland was a lecture and being grounded for a month, but living the first ten years of your life in permanent fight or flight made it hard to be rational sometimes.
Theater was so much fun though, so it was worth whatever vitriol it might earn him from Holland or Healy. He loved the feeling of getting to be someone else, of putting his flair for the dramatic to good use, even if it was just for a short amount of time.
He just had to make it one more week until opening night, then he would tell Holland. All he wanted was the chance to at least be on stage once–for real, not just rehearsal–then he would take the risk and finally tell the truth.
Colt knew Holland was starting to get suspicion. Most of the time his excuses were horrible and his uncle wasn’t an idiot, he could see through Colt’s lies. It was literally Holland’s job to prove that people were lying.
The stress was also starting to get to him. He hated lying to Holland and hated keeping things from his siblings, Ryland especially, even more. Ryland was also smart enough to know that Colt was hiding something and he knew that he was hurting his brother by not saying anything.
Ryland was the literal worst at keeping secrets though. If Holland so much as hinted that Ryland might know something that Holland didn’t and should know he was caving immediately.
Not having a ride home sucked too, leaving him biking home most nights. He couldn’t exactly ask Holland or Healy to pick him if he didn’t want to explain what he was doing, Holly definitely wouldn’t give him a ride if he didn’t tell her what he was doing, and Court was off at UCLA for mechanical engineering.
Biking was really not fucking fun, especially after being at rehersal for hours, so by the time Colt got home he was ready to shower and pass out. Fuck his chemistry homework, he would just beg Ryland for help or to do it for him in the morning.
He dumped his bike in the front yeard–again, he was fucking exhausted–and trudged into the house. Holland was sitting at the kitchen table so Colt gave him a half-assed wave, only stopping when he heard his name being called.
“Can you come over here for a sec Colt? I want to talk to you about something.”
The dread hit him immediately but it wasn’t like he had any way to get out of the conversation. He steeled himself, not wanting to give Holland any more reasons to be suspicious, and sat across from his uncle.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” To his horror there was a poster on the table. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was across the top in bold followed by his name and the names of the three other leads. Colton Gentry - Demetrius.
Colt didn’t even know what to say, how to defend himself, so he just tried to avoid Holland’s eyes. Beneath the table his leg was bouncing a mile a minute, the anxious energy needing to go somewhere.
“Can you look at me Colt?” Holland must have seen something on his face, either the fear or the anxiety, as his voice was soft, gentle like Colt was a spooked animal. He tentatively looked up and didn’t see any of the anger or disappointment he had been expecting for some reason. If anything, Holland looked a little sad. “You should have told me, this is a big deal, kid. I’m proud of you.”
“You’re not mad?” That was… not what he had been expecting. “That I’m doing the play or that I hid it from you?”
“Why would I be mad? You’re the lead, you’re gonna be a star, you don’t even know how much I’m going to brag about this to the other parents.” The sad look turned smug. “Take that Martha, your little shit face child is warming the bench for the football team while my kid is the lead in,” Holland paused, looking at the poster, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream!”
Holland put the poster back down, looking at Colt seriously again. “Is there a particular reason you decided to keep this whole thing quiet?”
Wasn’t that a loaded question? “Dad,” was all managed to get out. That was it came down to in the end. The stupid shit that his father had instilled himself that he had yet to shake free of.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Holland muttered. “Your dad was a piece of shit, simple as that. Whatever he had told before was fucking incorrect. Being in a play makes you happy? Cool, if it makes you happy that’s all I care about! You’re not whatever fucked version of a ‘real man’ that your dad loved use against you three? That’s cool too because he was a god damn asshole.”
Even though they had been living with Holland for years it would hit him occasionally how bad things were before. Here he was, blinking back tears, all because Holland wasn’t pissed at him for doing something that made him happy.
If he did something like this before and went behind his dad’s back to do something he had already been hit for once, who knows what would have happened. Definitely not a calm conversation where his dad asked why he felt the need to hide in the first place.
“You okay kid?” Holland asked gently. He always was pretty gentle with them, wasn't he?
Colt didn’t trust his voice so he just nodded instead. A tear fell from his eye that he was quick to wipe away. He couldn’t even remember the last time he cried in front of someone who wasn’t Court or Ryland.
“When’s opening night?” The question was clearly an attempt to distract him, one that Colt appreciated. “We gotta get Court home for that, make sure Holly doesn’t have any plans with Jessica. Everyone’s going to be there if I have to drag them there myself.”
“You’re really not mad?”
Holland shook his head. “God no. You know Court waited two months to tell me he got into UCLA? If John wasn’t already dead I’d kill him myself,” Holland stopped, considered something for a second, “I’d sent Jackson to kill him, for what he did to you boys. Your achievements and whatever random shit you’re into is important to me and Jack.”
“Opening night is next Friday,” he muttered. If Holland wanted to know what was important to him he would at least try and meet him half way, even if it was hard.
Colt had gotten better about not hiding away the things that were important to him but sometimes he still reverted back to that kid just trying to survive. His dad couldn’t have cared less about what his sons enjoyed or the things they had accomplished. It wasn’t uncommon for Colt and Ryland to get yelled at for talking too much when all they wanted was to tell their dad about their day.
The difference was stark between his father and Holland as he smiled and said, “Good. Now go tell your brother that too before he worries himself to death. I tried getting information out of him and he was just as clueless as to what was going on with you. Thought that he did something to make you not want to tell him.”
Colt gave his uncle an exasperated, if a little fond, look. “We all know Ry’s the worst at keeping secrets. He would have caved the second you put any pressure on him!”
“That’s why he’s my best informant on you. Court and Holly have stone cold poker faces but Ryland is an open book–you are too most of the time.”
“Nuh uh, Ryland is ten times worse than me!”
Now it was Holland’s turn to give him an exasperated look. “Yeah right kid, you’re twins, and similar in a lot more ways than you both think.”
Colt rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say uncle Holland.” He was too tired to defend himself. He was not anywhere near as emotional as Ryland. He had a very good poker face!
The conversation made him realize then that there wasn’t really any need to have a good poker face anymore. Hiding his feelings behind a mask of apathy wasn’t something that he had to do to survive. It wasn’t a crime to cry or act like a girl, as his father always loved to say.
As he made his way upstairs he took a deep breath before turning around one last time. “Thank you for uh– just thank you. For everything. I’m happy you took us in.” Saying something like that would have gotten him hit for sure if it was his father he was saying it to. Holland just gave him a soft look and said, “Me too kid. I love you boys.”
“Love you too uncle Holland.”
When Colt turned back around to finally go upstairs he missed the glassiness in Holland’s eyes.
—
During the final bow on opening night, just as Holland had promised, Colt could see his entire family sitting dead center in the sea of shitty plastic chairs the school had arranged. Holly had the biggest bouquet of roses he had ever seen, Ryland was giving him a thumbs up when he caught Colt looking in his direction, Court beside him with a proud smile. Holland was leaning over to bitch about something to Healy–most likely Martha Carlson, who was in the direction that Holland was glaring in, still not over the incident with her son in seventh grade.
If you asked that little eight year old Colt that just wanted to try something new if he ever thought he would be here, he would probably tell you no. Would tell you that dad said acting wasn’t for real men and that meant it wasn’t something that one of his sons would be caught doing if they knew what was good for them.
That version of himself never would have imagined being free of his father let alone doing something that would send him into a rage.
But he had done it, against all odds. He made it out and was able to look out into the crowd and see the faces of the two men that had raised him more than his own dad had ever tried to alongside the two brothers that had been there for him his entire life and the sister he somehow got lucky enough to have.
That little version of himself would be ecstatic to know about the family, the safety, he would get to have one day.